


Underneath This Skin

by Merit



Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2558768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter had been lonely for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath This Skin

Princess Selene had been her only friend until she met Jacen. Selene had laughed and embraced her when Winter’s father had married Levana. “We’re practically sisters, now!” She had exclaimed.

“Cousins,” Levava said from behind then. She was glowing – more so than usual. Her white veil fluttered, even though there was no wind on the Moon. She smiled charmingly and Winter felt love bloom in her heart. Levana rested a hand on her head and then kissed Selene’s cheek. “Selene would have to be my daughter for you two to be sisters,” she said lightly, watching them carefully.

Selene had giggled. “Okay,” she said, shrugging carelessly. “Then I want to play with my cousin,” she said, putting her hand in Winter’s and urging her to follow her. Winter’s eyes flickered to Levena and she only moved when Levana nodded.

They played with their dolls. Magnificent creatures, but dull and lifeless compared to the pageantry of the court.  Selene didn’t seem to care.

“We should go on a trip together,” Selene declared.

“Where?” Winter asked.

“Earth of course,” Selene said. She looked outside the window. Most people couldn’t afford windows. They were extremely expensive and largely useless. Unless you wanted to keep an eye on Earth. The Lunar royal family, of course, had dozens. Selene walked over to the window, doll still clutched in her hand. Winter followed her, carefully putting the red haired doll she had been playing with on a couch.

“They don’t like us there,” Winter pointed out.

Selene shook her. “When I’m Queen I’ll go there and I’ll make everything right,” she said, her small chin set stubbornly.

Winter didn’t hear anything. It was just – a feeling. She turned slightly and Levana was in the doorway, the veil like a banner in a torrent. Her smile was fixed and her eyes were set on the slight Selene. Winter stepped back, scared by the ferocity in the Levana’s stare.

The movement must have been noticed by Levana, because she turned and regarded Winter critically. Then she raised her finger to her lips and whispered, “Shh,” as she left the room. Winter blinked and frowned. She didn’t know why she was staring at the door.

“When you’re Queen,” Winter said slowly, even though the words felt wrong on her lips. She didn’t understand why, or why the hairs on the back of her neck refused to go down no matter how much she rubbed at them.

Then the fire happened. Channary died. Selene died – “They found a foot,” her father whispered to Levena, hands on her shoulders. Her eyes were wild, her hair streaming behind like she had walked through a storm. “They found a hand,” Evret said. “She’s dead. You’ll be Queen now,” he kissed her cheek, her forehead. She turned her head and kissed him roughly, fingers dragging through his hair.

“They’re dead and I’m Queen,” Levana said, straightening. Her father was pushed away and Levana strode to a window. It was a full length window and for a moment Winter thought she saw Levana’s true face. In the window, she met Levana’s eyes. They widened. “Have all the windows draped in black,” she ordered and a courtier scurried off. She smiled, full lips stretching into something grotesque, Winter blinked, no she had seen wrong. Levena was smiling sadly as she embraced Evret. “We’re mourning after all,” she said.

He smiled back and pulled her into a deeper embrace. “And we shall do what whatever you wish in this time of grief,” he said, pressing a kiss against the shell of her ear.

 

* * *

 

Winter’s father had been one of the most handsome men she had ever known. And she wasn’t saying that as a dutiful daughter. He had worn a glamor at court, as it was considered proper, but he could slip it off as easily as silk, revealing a handsome faced that shamed some of the most talented glamors. He used it to accentuate his broad shoulders, his dark eyes, his booming laugh making it ring out through the entire court.

He wasn’t very well liked at court, because who could like the man who had stolen Levana’s affections? No that wasn’t right. Who had won them and kept them. At least with Channary, with a new man or woman every other week, you never paid much attention to her lovers. They never had much influence and were quickly forgotten.

When he died – killed, murdered, Levana weeping for days and days and days – Winter had been lost. Her mother had died, murdered years ago. Winter wasn’t even sure who had killed her. It could have been her father. It could have been Levana. Winter had attended court, as she usually she did.  People, glamors up, whispering behind raised fans. They had kept a careful circle around Winter free. Winter hadn’t minded terribly. Her father had always said to be wary of courtiers, there was no one to trust. He had laughed, swinging her in the air and Winter had laughed, loving him.

But after her weeping had ended, Levana had ordered her to come forward. The court had waited, sharp eyes watching her. They wondered if they would see blood. Winter curtseyed before the throne and then kept her head bowed. Levana had laughed softly. Winter looked up.

Levana was beautiful. A shining beauty that took your breath away if you weren’t used to her. Already Winter felt compelled to please her, obey her, make her happy. It was only the nagging thought that Levana should have a red face from weeping that kept her still.

“Your father died in the defence of the realm, Winter,” Levana said and then shook her head. “His killers will be executed.”

She nodded, hands clasped behind her back. “Thank you, my queen,” she said softly and bowed. “My father was a brave man.”

“He called you his Princess Winter,” Levana said, staring idly over the court. She frowned, a rare sign of physical displeasure that sent ripples of fear across the court. “He loved his lovely daughter. You shall remain a Lunar Princess, my dear Winter.”

Slowly, slowly and then faster, faster the court bowed to her. After a pause Winter curtseyed to the queen, “You do me the greatest honor,” Winter said, knowing she would be bound to the court, to Levana forever now. She swallowed. “Thank you for cherishing my father’s memory. I miss him too,” she added. For a moment she thought she had over stepped and her throat froze up.

But Levana’s glamor actually shifted for a second before the queen was back to her everlasting beauty. Levana nodded, her eyes misty. It was a dismissal and Winter stepped back, her head low, her eyes filled with hot tears.

 

* * *

 

When Winter was twelve, she had been frozen in fear and worship, watching as Levana had slowly advanced, her fingernails blood red. She had slashed at Winter’s face, drawing livid marks. Winter had gasped, placing a hand against her cheek. She sank to her knees and looked tearfully up at Levana. Levana’s expression didn’t waver. Winter didn’t even understand why she had been marked.

“Take her away,” Levana ordered, walking slowly back to her throne. The court was still for a moment too long and Levana’s eyes flashed. All had once, Winter had several hands hauling her to her feet, patting her shoulder, cooing over her wound. “Dress the wound,” Levana said sweetly, as if she cared about Winter’s pain. “But leave the marks.”

Winter was dragged to her knees as the courtiers bowed and curtseyed. The Queen turned her attention elsewhere and Winter was none too kindly hurried out of the throne room. Once out, several of the glamors wavered – a severe breach of court etiquette. One woman threw her head back and leaned against a column.

“I thought we were all going to die,” she exclaimed. The others rushed to comfort her and Winter was left staring at them. “I can’t remember the last time she left the throne.”

“Why?” Winter asked, tears springing to the corner of her eyes. They started to fall and she flinched as the salty tears stung her bloody cheek. The courtiers looked at her like she was the freak, the monster and Winter crossed her arms and looked away.

One of the men, someone who had never cared for her father, but he had an excellent glamor and had kept it secret, laughed. It was a pleasant laugh and Winter shivered. “Why? You don’t look in mirrors very often, do you?”

“They aren’t allowed in the royal quarters,” Winter whispered.

“Of course,” a woman said. “Well my dear,” she said, her voice treacly sick. “You’re quite the natural beauty. And Levana must be the most beautiful. Because she is,” she added quickly.

“Or maybe you remind her too much of your father,” another woman said, sharp eyes examining Winter. “And there have been so many deaths in the Royal family of late,” she added, watching Winter carefully.

Winter nodded, clutching herself. She didn’t cry now when she thought of Selene now, even though she had been so lonely after she had died in the fire. Levana had declared every other candidate to be unsuitable and after so many children had been rejected, no other parents offered up their children as possible playmates for the Princess Winter.

A court doctor treated her wound. He handled her distantly and discharged her without looking over his clipboard.

 

* * *

 

“You could put a glamor up,” Jacen said. He was sweaty from practicing his forms, though with a quick shake of his head, his glamor was up and his uniform was perfectly pressed.

The wound had healed weeks ago. Winter had traced the marks after the bandage was removed. They were red, fading to pink. It would scar, just as Levana intended. “No,” Winter said. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You could just do it between the two of us,” Jacen said quietly. “You can be your true self here.” He smiled at her quick and sweet. Winter felt her heart flutter in her chest, she turned her head away so he wouldn’t see her blush.

Winter smiled jerkily. “I don’t think I’ll be using it all,” she said, not looking at Jacen. But his silence was response enough. She looked at him under lowered lashes. He was gaping, his glamor flickering before fading away. Then he was just a sweaty boy again. she still thought he was cute.

“But you have to,” Jacen said, face ashen. “You know what happens to Lunars who don’t.”

“They go crazy?” Winter asked. “Maybe I already am, for wanting to do this.”

“Winter,” Jacen whispered. “Please don’t do this.”

“I must,” Winter said firmly, thinking of Levana’s blood red nails.

He shook his head, aghast at the possibility. Winter was afraid inside. She had never known anyone who had refused their gifts. But they had all heard rumours of what happened to Lunars who didn’t. In the early days, they hadn’t realised that they _had_ to use their gifts. History books were vague on detail, nearly everything Winter was told was lacking. But she knew how to read through the lines.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes she felt like she falling, even though she was sitting. The blood cried blood. It filled her bedroom, the throne room until Winter wanted to scream that they were all going to drown. The courtiers kept on smiling, dancing, playing eager servant to Levana. Winter stood in a shadow, eyes flickering across the crowd, sweat beading on her forehead.

Levana liked her well enough, for Levana. So Winter could escape the court, spend her time with precious animals, with Jacen. Jacen couldn’t spend all his time with her though. He had his duty to Levana and she would crush him if she thought he preferred Winter over her.

Winter could only imagine the screaming, the terror, and the fountains of blood if Levana found out. She didn’t think she was mad. And how she hated that word. They thought she didn’t understand what they were whispering, but Winter heard.

Sometimes she felt Levana looking at her. It was never long but fear crept through her veins. It took months and months of effort to be able to change that. She still was afraid when she looked at Levana, blood dripping down her chin, out of eyes, down her pale arms. Levana sat on a throne of skulls and bones and creepy dead things that scurried. But no one saw it other than Winter.

So she played the dutiful stepdaughter. She lived. No, she survived. Winter didn’t know anyone who was truly living on the Moon.

Occasionally she looked down at the Earth, the planet a vivid blue and green so unlike the dusty, grey Moon. She imagined exploring the world with Selene. Tears sprung in her eyes and Winter looked away. She wiped at her face and gasped quietly when she saw blood. She blinked and her hand was only damp, not bloody.

Winter shuddered. She didn’t know what to do. But she had to survive until she did.

 


End file.
